What Makes a God
by Servant of Elizabeth
Summary: From the mouth of the perfect soldier - what it is that makes men into gods, and Solid Snake into the only man in the world worth fighting. Everything else is meaningless; only for a fight with the the last great warrior of mankind does he cling to life.


I am a man, it is simple as that.

It is all I have even needed to be, and it is all that any man has ever needed to be. A man; strong, virulent, and built in the image of Adam himself. I am a man; my hands are my tools and my legs are my transport. When my feet touch the earth, there is nothing that that can move me, and when my feet leave the earth, there is nothing that can catch me. Any predator is prey to man; any man who fears a beast is not a man at all, but an animal lower than any other.

What more could any man want but to be a man? They wanted it to be easier, so they invented armor, and they wanted it faster, so they invented the firearm. But no; then they wanted it cleaner, so they invented the nanobot, but they wanted to win without ever dirtying their hands, so they invented the chain of command and the soldiers on the very bottom.

And then they wanted victory without risk, so they replaced man with Metal Gear.

Metal Gear was the idea of a man who was truly worthy of being called a God in his own right, but that is where it ended. Where one's own strength began to mean nothing compared to the arsenal he hides or the threats he could make. The age of soldiers had died and given way to the age of information warfare and global terrorism. The day of men and warriors – the age of my wars, had ended.

He is not a man, he is a pup. He is unshaven and untamed; he is a beast who has broken too many chains and survived too many shots. He is the pup of a man who was just like he was – the blood of men runs in his veins, and now it covers him – his boots and his hands; his knife and his arms that show he's not the coward who hides behind machines or firearms. He is the last of kind; the last person worthy of being called a warrior.

And then there is the stray; if the warrior is a pup, then this boy is about as low as a kitten. Where there should be strength, he has toys, and where there should be the skill of a warrior, there is just another very sophisticated toy. I admit he is more of a man than any of his comrades; more of a soldier than any of those who accompany me on my missions, but his blood isn't worthy to spill mine. He's not the last of his kind – he's a prototype for a future where weapons define men, not the other way around.

I cannot bear these toys; these substitutes for the stuff that makes someone worthy of keeping their life on the battlefield. When true warriors sweat and bleed, the cowards will record and use the efforts of the warriors for their infernal nanites; to become stronger without any of the warrior's spirit. War has changed; any man worth his skin in battle can see that. War is no longer the passion of two blades twisting in the sun's heat while men bite through their gums in strain. War now is ugly; raped and defiled by the desire for that which has ruined history since its very conception – money.

War is not something that has a price; war is not something that has a reward or a name or even a trophy to be won. War at its very base is an ideal, and all there is to it is that whoever manages to win had the more worthy ideal. To wage war – to be a warrior to be become a God of your own world; to cut down death and cast aside everyone who would call themselves your better. War is to live until you experience to euphoria of seeing war become truly beautiful; when even you, it's God, can no longer tame it, and the beast strikes you down and leaves you to choke on your own blood.

The man I seek is the last of his kind.

The man I seek is Solid Snake.

He, like me, is immortal.

* * *

Author's Note: I wrote this in about ten minutes, so pardon the shortness. I've always loved Vamp's character, and I can help but love him for fighting against insane technology and even the Cyborg Ninja suit with just a set of knives and his bare hands. Reviews are greatly appreciated.


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